The Uglier Truth
by uktechgirl
Summary: John finds something out...


TITLE: The Uglier Truth  
  
GENRE: Drama.  
  
SUMMARY: Crichton finds something out...   
  
RATING: PG-13  
  
SPOILERS: Specifically, P, EFG, IET, THM, FT, MTB, TWWW, LATP2, and TUT.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them; if I did, I wouldn't be this nasty to them.  
  
NOTES: I apologise for this fic. I wish I'd never written it. You will probably wish you'd never read it. But sometimes a thought gets stuck in your mind and just won't go away...  
This is sort of a speculation for something which 'might' happen before the end of Season 2. It's set at some indeterminate point in the future, post-TUT; just a vignette, no plot as such. I know I'm not the only person that thinks this, but...well, just read it and you'll see.  
[This has been slightly revised since it first got put up. My thanks to JKBBQ, whoever you may be, for pointing out that I am a jackass.]  
  
FEEDBACK: to uktechgirl@scape-goat.com. Be as brutal as you like, I can take it...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Crais's footfalls were soft, but Aeryn heard his approach, stiffened her shoulders, and turned around to face him. He paused, hovering in the cell doorway and raising his eyebrows at her questioningly.  
  
'May I enter, Officer Sun?' he said, tilting his head as if in deference to her, although a faint smile lurked behind his eyes.  
  
She nodded silently, holding up a small piece of circuitry and directing Crais's eyes to the DRD on the shelf beside her; part of its outer casing had been removed, and its eye-stalks drooped lifelessly.  
  
'We're no longer being monitored,' she said, dropping the circuit next to the small drone. 'And 'Aeryn' will do fine.'  
  
Crais nodded courteously and walked into the room, his eyes travelling penetratingly over the walls and ceiling of the dimly lit cell, searching for hidden devices.  
  
Aeryn smiled. 'Something to hide?' she said, almost teasingly, amused by her former Captain's apparent paranoia.  
  
Crais spread his hands in a palliative gesture, tilting his head as he came to a stop before her. 'I believe we both may benefit from such...caution, Aeryn,' he said, emphasising her name.  
  
'It wasn't me that requested a private meeting,' Aeryn said, slowly, lifting her chin.  
  
'But, you consented,' Crais replied, the knowing smile still in his eyes. 'Despite your certain knowledge that your shipmates would not approve.'  
  
'My decisions are my own,' Aeryn said, pressing her lips together firmly.  
  
'As it should be,' Crais said, nodding his head towards her in acknowledgement. 'We have both learned much since our departure from Peacekeeper control.'  
  
Aeryn watched him calmly, saying nothing as he turned and began to pace the room, gazing admiringly at the Leviathan's golden arching structures.  
  
'I have built...a new life,' he said, breathing deeply. 'I have learned how empty the old one was - just as you did.' He paused, and pointed a gloved finger at her, before resuming his pacing.  
  
'I have fulfilled my ambition, to create a hybrid Leviathan gunship, and to command that ship. Talyn is...'   
  
Crais tailed off, inhaling deeply again as he tried to find an adequate expression to convey his admiration for his ship; Aeryn's eyes widened slightly as she saw him struggle for the words, surprised not only by the depth of his emotion but his willingness to demonstrate it so openly.   
  
'Talyn is a finer creation than any Peacekeeper could have anticipated,' Crais said at last, his voice full of awe.  
  
'He is a magnificent creature,' Aeryn responded, smiling, comforted to know that her own feelings for Talyn were matched by his Captain's; to know that Moya's son was in good hands.  
  
Crais turned his head towards her, fixing her with his eyes and returning her smile, equally pleased.  
  
'His virtues are ours, Aeryn,' he said quietly, still holding her with his gaze.  
  
She narrowed her eyes, frowning slightly.  
  
'I don't understand,' she said.  
  
Crais smiled, cat-like, and started pacing again.  
  
'Talyn is the perfect hybrid. He possesses Peacekeeper weaponry; Peacekeeper aggression; Peacekeeper discipline. But he is not confined by rules and regulations, by petty hierarchies. He is an independent individual, a being who may carve his own path.'  
  
Crais paused again, and again stared intently at Aeryn.  
  
'Just as we are, Aeryn. You and I.'  
  
Aeryn's lips parted slightly at the words.  
  
'An honourable comparison, yes?' said Crais, raising an eyebrow with a smile, entertained by the slight flush which had come to Aeryn's cheek.  
  
She nodded, a tiny smile on her lips, and then frowned.  
  
'What do you want, Crais?' she said, wondering quite where this conversation was going.  
  
Crais smiled, nodding as if to thank her for being so direct.  
  
'What I want...may very well be what you want,' he said haltingly.  
  
'I find that rather unlikely,' Aeryn said dryly.  
  
'Perhaps,' Crais said, smiling at her sarcasm. 'Perhaps not. What I want is to continue to evade Peacekeeper interference, here in the Uncharted Territories...to continue living on Talyn, and teaching him to control his natural aggression...to find...happiness.' He paused. 'Are our desires so very different?'  
  
Aeryn's face had grown sombre, but she said nothing.  
  
'Come with me, Aeryn Sun,' said Crais, his voice so low it was barely audible.  
Her eyes widened.  
  
'I...' she murmured, bewildered.  
  
'You, me, Talyn...we are alone in the universe, Aeryn. Orphaned...misunderstood. But united, we could create a place where we truly belonged.'  
  
'You can't expect...I can't just...' she faltered, her brow wrinkled with confusion.  
  
'Can't what? Turn and walk away from everything you know? Start again?' Crais smiled. 'You've done it before. You can do it again.'  
  
She looked up at him with pleading eyes, and then lifted her chin up defiantly, breathing deeply.  
  
'As I recall, last time you gave me very little choice.'  
  
Crais sighed, and gave her an admonitory look.   
  
'It was your decision to flee with the fugitives, Aeryn, not mine.'  
  
'Should I have stayed and faced my punishment? A punishment which I did not deserve?'  
  
'You were insubordinate, I had no choice,' began Crais, starting to look a little frayed and anxious, but Aeryn cut him off, her eyes blazing.  
  
'You were making a fool of yourself, parading around shouting about revenge. And don't tell me it was insubordination that made you declare me 'irreversibly contaminated', Crais.'  
  
He stiffened at that, flaring his nostrils angrily.  
  
'I was your Commanding Officer,' Crais stated firmly. 'You publicly contradicted me - I could not allow my authority to be challenged in that way. Least of all by you.'  
  
'So you thought you'd bundle me out of the way before I became an embarrassment?' Aeryn raised her eyebrows at him.  
  
'You had already become an embarrassment,' growled Crais, turning away from her and striding to the other side of the cell.  
  
Aeryn shifted on her feet, her stomach churning as her mind ran frantically through those old, dead memories. They had been pushed aside for cycles now, only resurfacing occasionally; the one true virtue of her Peacekeeper training.  
  
She opened her mouth to speak, still unsure of what she wanted to say, but the sound of hurried footsteps in the passage outside made her snap her mouth closed again. Instinctively, she sent Crais a warning look, but he too had heard the sound and had turned, his features now composed, if wary.  
  
Crichton had his hand at his thigh as he rounded the corner, the weapon strapped there not yet drawn, but ready, waiting, anticipating trouble. He stopped just outside the cell and then grinned, propping himself up against one of the doors with his left arm, relaxing slightly.  
  
'Well, ain't this cosy?' he said, too busy grinning at Crais's irritation to notice Aeryn flinch at his words.  
  
'Crichton,' said Crais, wearily.  
  
'Ahh, Crais, you had us all worried for a microt there, bro. See, Pilot assigned a few DRDs to monitor your location, just in case you got any funny ideas about pulling another little hijack job. Thought we'd lost track of you.'  
  
Crichton pulled away from the door and stepped slowly into the cell.  
  
'Should've known old bloodhound Sun here would be able to sniff you out, though.' He flicked a conspiratorial grin in her direction, and then walked to stand just behind her, folding his arms and facing Crais over her shoulder.  
  
'Hey,' he murmured in Aeryn's ear, 'Your comms is out too. Pilot's been going crazy trying to find you.'  
  
'I switched it off,' said Aeryn, loudly, ignoring Crichton's attempt to keep the discussion out of Crais's earshot.  
  
'You what?' said Crichton, screwing up his face in confusion. Then, over her shoulder, he saw the deactivated DRD on the shelf.  
  
'Hey, little guy,' he cooed, ducking out from behind her and striding over to pick up the stray circuit that had been removed. He slotted it carefully back in among the messy configuration of wires, and replaced the yellow casing. The DRD's eyestalks lit up and waggled at him in a friendly way, before the little drone scooted away.  
  
'Now, Crais, pulling the guts out of the DRDs? Not nice.'  
  
Crais glared at Crichton, and then found himself smiling as once again Aeryn spoke up.  
  
'I deactivated the DRD, Crichton, not Crais.'  
  
Again her voice was loud and firm, as if she was challenging him to respond.  
He turned his head and again gave her a puzzled look, shaking his head at her and shrugging as if asking her to explain.  
  
'We needed to talk privately,' she said casually, not looking at him.  
  
Crichton gaped even wider.  
  
'You,' he said, pointing at her with one finger, 'and him,' he added, pointing at Crais with the other hand so that his arms crossed in the middle. 'Needed a little private time?'  
  
Aeryn went on staring right ahead; Crais watched the two of them with amusement.  
  
Crichton swallowed and looked at the floor, thinking.  
  
'OK,' he said slowly, scratching the back of his neck. 'I see two possible explanations: either you guys were planning a surprise birthday party for Pilot...'  
  
He looked up at their faces in mock expectation.  
  
'Hmm? No takers? Now, there's a surprise. So, let's go to option two. Which is: there's something going on that I don't have a frelling clue about.'  
  
Aeryn went on ignoring him; Crais shifted slightly, observing Crichton's increasing unease with fascination.  
  
Crichton allowed the silence to continue for a moment, still looking from one of them to the other expectantly, but neither Crais nor Aeryn spoke.  
  
'Well, you'd think I'd be kind of used to that situation by now, right, guys? But, you know, for some reason, with you around, it makes me kind of nervous.'  
  
As he spoke, Crichton strolled towards Crais and leaned his face in close, breathing right in his ear, a half smile on his lips. Aeryn watched him; watched the exaggerated swagger in his movements, the cocky look on his face. Every time, he was like this. Never with D'Argo. Certainly never with Rygel. But with Crais, always; getting in his face, putting himself physically between them, as if his body somehow knew what his mind did not.  
  
'There was no reason for you to be concerned, Crichton,' Aeryn said, glaring at him. 'We were talking, that's all.'  
  
'Now, what would you two kids have to talk about that you wouldn't want little Johnny to hear? Huh?'  
  
He was still doing it, she noted; still leaning into Crais's face, his nose almost touching Crais's cheek, his face intense. Ignoring her; not even noticing her. And Crais just stood there, bolt upright, eyes locked on some distant point, tolerating his presence but prickling with annoyance.  
  
'It's none of your business, Crichton,' said Aeryn firmly. 'A private conversation, which we will continue after you leave.'  
  
That got his attention, as she had anticipated. He turned his head sharply to look at her, frowning and opening his mouth. She met his eyes blankly, giving no ground.  
  
Crichton turned his head back to look at Crais, narrowing his eyes, and then turned again to look at Aeryn, blinking rapidly. Something flickered across his eyes as he watched her; a dark thought, one that he quickly pushed aside. Aeryn caught it, though, and felt her heart skip at the flicker of hurt that had flared there for a moment.   
  
He knows, she thought. He's known for monens. After the Plokavians had let them go, he'd practically come right out and asked her. Why didn't you finger Crais? he'd said, feigning innocence, and she'd smiled and done the same, shrugged it off as if he was being unclear, being absurd. For Talyn, she'd told him; to stop them from going after Talyn.   
  
Not a lie; not quite. And truth was malleable, was mutable; the Plokavians had proved that. He didn't need to know, didn't want to; if he had, he would have pushed, would have asked the right question. Would have looked her in the eye when he asked if that was it, instead of anywhere but her face. And even now, here he stood, with it plain as day in front of his nose, and still he wouldn't let himself see it. She felt a twinge of guilt at her own sense of relief, that the inevitable confrontation could again be postponed.  
  
Crichton took a step backwards and tilted his head at Crais, still frowning.  
  
'Is this about Talyn?' he said, turning his head again to watch Aeryn.  
  
'I said it's none of your business, John,' said Aeryn, her voice beginning to show signs of strain.  
  
Crichton narrowed his eyes at her, and then suddenly reached down and drew his pulse pistol in one swift movement, placing the barrel against Crais's cheek. Crais's eyes slid over towards Crichton, but they registered no fear; only weary irritation.  
  
'What's the game, Crais?' hissed Crichton.  
  
'John, put down the weapon,' said Aeryn loudly.  
  
'No, I don't think so,' he said, nudging Crais's cheek with the pistol. 'Not until you let me in on the big secret.'  
  
'Are you sure you want to know, Crichton?' said Crais, smugly, casting an amused look at Aeryn.  
  
She pursed her lips and looked away. Now he was doing it too; asking things of her, expecting things. Trying to force her to make the choice, on his terms, his way.  
  
'Just leave, John,' she said, still looking at the floor.  
  
'I'm not going anywhere,' Crichton said, still staring down the barrel at Crais. 'Not until I can be sure that our boy here hasn't got something tricky up his sleeve.'  
  
'I have nothing to conceal from you, Crichton,' said Crais equably, his eyes on Aeryn. 'It is...Officer Sun who wishes to keep the contents of our...discussion...away from the public domain.'  
  
Aeryn lifted her chin, setting her mouth in a line.  
  
'Oh yeah?' said Crichton, throwing Aeryn a slightly manic look over his shoulder. 'Is that so? Well, it isn't 'Officer Sun' who I'm asking, 'Captain'. It's you. So spill.'  
  
Crais fixed his eyes on Aeryn.  
  
'I have asked Aeryn to...join me on Talyn...'  
  
'Shut up, Crais,' Aeryn cut in.  
  
'Oh, no, honey,' said Crichton, in a sing-song voice. 'I think he ought to keep right on talking.'  
  
'She had not yet given me her answer, when you interrupted us,' Crais continued.  
  
'Oh, really?' said Crichton, twisting his head around again to look at her over his shoulder. 'Well, why don't we hear it now?'  
  
Aeryn's eyes filled with tears.  
  
'Stop it, John, ' she said thickly. 'Just go.'  
  
'Oh, I don't think so. Not when things have just gotten so interesting.'  
  
'John, please.'  
  
'I mean, all you have to do is say that one little word. You know the one, starts with an 'N', ends with an 'O', not a whole lot in between.' Crichton was speaking quickly, his voice starting to crack a little. 'And I know you know it, baby, 'cause I've heard you say it to me. About a thousand times. Remember?'  
  
Aeryn looked away, trying unsuccessfully to stop her tears.  
  
'I mean, the answer is 'no', right?' said Crichton, breathing heavily, the look in his eyes growing wilder. 'It has to be 'no', right? Because what possible reason could you have for saying 'yes'?'  
  
Crais watched Aeryn carefully, his brow furrowing at her obvious distress.  
  
'That's enough, Crichton,' said Crais, softly.  
  
Crichton turned his head and stared at Crais with cold fury, his whole body trembling; his grip on the pistol stiffened, and he swallowed hard. Crais sensed the finger on the trigger tightening, and lifted his chin, keeping his eyes open, refusing to show fear.  
  
'John...please...' Aeryn's voice was timid; pleading; like he'd never heard it before.  
  
Crichton closed his eyes, and swallowed again, biting on his lower lip to try to stop the tears from coming. It was true; he knew it was true, had known for monens. But this; being told; having it confirmed. He had pushed; it was his own fault. And now they couldn't go back, because you can never take it back.  
  
He let his arm fall slackly down at his side, the pulse pistol falling to the floor from numb, lifeless fingers. His head hung limply on his neck, and he stayed there, with his eyes closed, for several long, slow seconds. Then he swallowed, and straightened up.  
  
His eyes met Crais's, and Crichton blinked, startled at the sympathy he saw there through his fog of tears. He had seen that look once before; after the Chair, after Crais had been forced into it too, and learned just what Crichton had endured as Crais had paced around him hungrily, enjoying his suffering. Planning the suicide run, with no hope, no thought of surviving; only one thing which Scorpius values more, D'Argo had said, and they'd frowned and wondered, and D'Argo had answered himself, the base, the precious Gammak base. But Crais had been looking at Crichton, the one thing that Scorpius truly valued. They didn't know. He hadn't told them, had barely said two words about the base since Aeryn had brought him back, not even to her. Sympathy, and respect, that was the look Crais had given him. Crichton hadn't wanted to see it then. Right now seeing it again was making him want to throw up.  
  
'Perhaps it is I who should be leaving,' Crais said haltingly, the bitter pain in Crichton's red-rimmed eyes startling him with its ferocity. Aeryn's tear-stained face provided no respite; she was staring at him accusingly, and he felt a brief pang of guilt for having forced this moment to arrive. Neither one of them spoke, and Crais turned and left the cell silently, not looking back.  
  
Crichton stood silent, unmoving, his eyes gazing sightlessly at the wall, his shoulders slightly stooped. Aeryn watched him, his profile framed by the dim light behind him, his face mostly in shadow. She knew what the look on his face would be, though; knew before he did it that he would begin to shake his head slowly from side to side, begin opening and closing his mouth, searching for the words. She watched as he struggled, and inwardly cursed them all, Crais, Crichton, and herself.  
  
'I had to keep it from you, John,' she said hesitantly, sniffing and scrubbing a hand across her damp face. 'I didn't want to hurt you, and I knew you wouldn't...'  
  
'Stop!' Crichton shouted, throwing up a hand towards her but still facing the wall, not looking at her. 'Don't say that. Please, just don't...don't say that.'  
  
'What do you want me to say?'  
  
He turned to face her then, staring at her with a bewildered look.  
  
'I want you to say that I'm wrong, Aeryn. I want you to tell me that I'm an idiot, that I'm crazy, that I've got it all wrong.'  
  
She looked at him with wide, wet eyes and slowly shook her head, feeling the tears rushing back as his face crumpled and he turned around again, unable to look her in the eye.  
  
'It isn't what you think, John.'  
  
He ran a shaky hand over his face, trying helplessly to regain something like composure; to rein in the freefall of thoughts, memories, fragments.  
  
Aeryn defending Crais, when they had last boarded Talyn, frowning upon his and Stark's mistrust.  
  
Aeryn, cradled in his arms in Pilot's den, telling him that Crais wouldn't hurt Talyn; that people could change.  
  
Crais's distress call to the Prowler, when he and D'Argo were taking their over-long stroll in vacuum; Aeryn's anger when they condemned her for trusting him.  
  
Crais, screaming at him as he boarded Talyn, Where is Officer Sun? Have you harmed her? Him laughing it off; thinking it was about Talyn, about Crais's failure to fully control the ship, needing her help.  
  
Aeryn, choosing to go with him, and not saying good-bye. For Talyn, he'd told himself, it had been for Talyn, to bring him back to Moya.  
  
Which was why he'd wanted to rip Crais's head off, to wipe away that smug grin that said She chose me, not you, Earth-man. He'd known it was true, somewhere, deep down, for a long time. But pretending was easier. Pretending hurt less.  
  
Aeryn watched his back; watched him reach up to touch his face the way he always did when he was upset or scared; watched him straighten up and prepare to turn around, only to have his nerve fail him.  
  
'John,' she said again, unable to stand the heavy silence.  
  
He lifted his head up, and slowly shuffled round to face her, staring at her with hopeless, reddened eyes.  
  
'How could you?' he murmured, blinking.  
  
She shook her head at him, sniffing again.  
  
'That's not fair. It was a long time ago...things were very different then.'  
  
'Like they were with Velorek?'  
  
Aeryn closed her eyes as if in pain.  
  
'This has nothing to do with how I felt for Velorek.'  
  
'Oh, just checking,' Crichton muttered, with a humourless little laugh. 'You know, wondering how many other Peacekeeper skeletons there are hanging in your closet that I'm going to wait three more cycles to find out about.'  
  
'That's not fair, Crichton,' Aeryn said, shaking her head, her voice rising in anger. 'You're talking about a past which you know nothing about. I've never interfered in yours; don't you dare condemn me for mine.'  
  
'There's just a slight difference. I don't recall any of my old girlfriends hunting you down and trying to kill you.'  
  
'Crais was not...it wasn't like that. I've told you before, Peacekeepers don't have relationships the way Humans do.'  
  
'Oh, so it was just a meaningless...fling. You drank too much raslak and woke up in the Captain's quarters, minus your underwear.'  
  
Aeryn glared at him.  
  
'And now that same Captain is chasing you halfway across the Uncharted Territories to ask you to join his one-man crew. Must've been one hell of a night...'  
  
'Stop it, John, just stop it.' She half turned away from him, torn between fury at his possessiveness and fury with herself, for letting this secret fester for so long.  
  
Crichton walked towards her slowly, spreading his arms out wide, questioningly.  
  
'What the hell do you expect me to say, Aeryn? Congratulations? I'm very happy for you, you make such a lovely couple?'  
  
He stopped a few feet away from her and stared at her expectantly. She stayed still, gazing at the wall, refusing to be goaded.  
  
He stepped back, letting his head fall backwards and sighing deeply, again trying to regain some control over his scattered thoughts. As he drew in a deep, calming breath, Aeryn closed her eyes and began to speak in a low, slightly wavering voice.  
  
'I was instructed to see Crais in his quarters the day after I...after I turned Velorek in.'  
  
She paused, shuddering slightly at the memory of the look on Crais's face when they came to take Velorek. Fascinated disgust; amazement at such devotion to duty; intrigue at Velorek's bitter, mocking compliment. Crichton narrowed his eyes at her reaction, and then opened them wide, horrified.  
  
'No,' he murmured, shaking his head.  
  
'No,' she replied, lifting her head up and turning her frank gaze on him. 'No, it wasn't like that.'  
  
He breathed deeply and nodded, as she turned her face back to the wall.  
  
'He had been...impressed by my dedication to my duty, and to my Captain. We talked...you know, away from all the posturing, all the power games and showmanship, he could be quite charming.'  
  
She turned her face slightly to his, smiling a little, and caught Crichton's unbelieving eye.  
  
'His background...coming from a farming commune, I think he felt he had more to prove than anyone else. Being the Captain of a Command Carrier wasn't enough; he had to keep reminding people that he was in charge, keep forcing them to demonstrate their respect.'  
  
'Yeah, I noticed that,' Crichton said softly.  
  
Aeryn shook her head.  
  
'You saw the public Crais. Playing the role of the Peacekeeper Captain.'  
  
'And you saw what? The real McCoy? The sheep under the wolf's clothing?'  
  
'I'm not saying he was perfect, Crichton. Far from it.'  
  
She paused again, sighing.  
  
'Do you remember the day we first met? The day you got here?'  
  
Crichton laughed.  
  
'Yeah, for some reason that particular day is kind of etched into my brain.'  
  
Aeryn smiled bleakly, glancing over at him.  
  
'That day,' she said, 'I found something out from a friend of mine. She worked in Communications; part of her job was to process applications for transfer. I'd been back on Prowler detail for monens; I wanted a bigger challenge, so I'd applied for a place on a Marauder crew.'  
  
'Yeah, I remember you saying.'  
  
She glanced at him, surprised that he recalled the old conversation; surprised that she was so pleased that he had.  
  
'I was waiting for a response from First Command when my friend contacted me, to tell me that my application had never gone through. That someone had blocked it, and applied for an alternative transfer.'  
  
'Crais?'  
  
'Only a senior officer would have the authority to do it.'  
  
Crichton frowned, trying to figure it out.  
  
'He was trying to stop you from leaving?'  
  
'In a manner of speaking, yes.' Aeryn sighed, and shifted position uncomfortably. 'The alternative transfer application was to the breeding unit. He had nominated me to be a breeding partner.'  
  
She kept her eyes on the wall, breathing steadily, not wanting to look around. Crichton swallowed, closing his eyes briefly, and then training them on the floor, glad not to have to meet her eyes. He cleared his throat, aware that his voice would be unsteady.  
  
'He...uh...he could do that without asking you? Without your consent?'  
  
'For someone of my rank to be nominated by a Captain was a great honour. I would be expected to accept...although it would be customary to have been consulted first.'  
  
'But he didn't do that?'  
  
Aeryn lifted her head up, smiling slightly.  
  
'Crais knew that I wanted the Marauder assignment. There would be nothing to prevent me from returning to it after the birth, but with almost a full cycle away from training, my chances would be much slimmer. And, I didn't want to carry a child that I would never know.'  
  
'But he went ahead and did it anyway?'  
  
'Yes.' She turned to look at Crichton. 'And the day I found that out was the day that you came through the wormhole.'  
  
Crichton looked at her thoughtfully, frowning.  
  
'I followed Moya because I wanted to prove to Crais that I was more useful as a pilot than a breeder. If I brought back his brother's killer and recaptured an escaped prison transport, he would be in my debt.'  
  
'But things didn't quite work out that way.'  
  
'No.'  
  
Crichton screwed up his eyes, remembering that first commerce planet, the blur of sights and sounds, all so new. Fascinating. Terrifying. And then the troops arriving; him calling out to warn D'Argo; Aeryn calling him a traitor. And Crais, striding up to him, brushing past Aeryn like she wasn't even there...  
  
'Why did you stick up for me?' he said.  
  
Aeryn almost flinched, as the long-awaited question finally arrived.  
  
'There were a lot of reasons, John,' she began, cautiously, but he cut her off.  
  
'Stop. That's a given. How many of them were about Crais?'  
  
She turned her head to face him, and saw his face; determined; hurt.  
  
'I was angry when he ignored me,' she said, meeting his eye. 'I had risked a great deal going after Moya like that. I'd managed to bring you back for questioning. He acted as if he didn't even know who I was.'  
  
Crichton pursed his lips and nodded, thinking. She stayed silent, watching him piece it together.  
  
'So you...you spoke up for me to piss Crais off?' His voice was almost inaudibly quiet.  
  
She sighed, breathing deeply, and keeping her eyes away from his.  
  
'I spoke up for you because Crais was being irrational, going beyond the boundaries of his authority because of Tauvo. I spoke up because I realised that he probably knew that I'd found out about his plans for my transfer. I spoke up because I wanted to hurt him for snubbing me, for trying to control me - and speaking up for another man in front of his personal guard was a good way to humiliate him.'  
  
She turned to face him then, before continuing.  
  
'But none of those was the main reason, John.'  
  
'Uhuh,' he said softly.  
  
'It's the truth.'  
  
He inhaled sharply, nodding again, and running a hand across his lips.  
  
'And if Crais hadn't shown up today, would you ever have told me?'  
  
'It was in the past, John,' she said after a pause. 'By the time I...it was too late by the time we...'  
  
'You blamed me,' he said, his voice growing louder. 'You let me blame myself, for ruining your life.'  
  
'Yes, I did,' she said, sadly. 'Back then...I was scared, lost, confused...'  
  
'Oh, and I wasn't any of those things?' Crichton cut in, sounding slightly hysterical.  
  
'I made a bad choice,' she said, her voice trembling slightly.  
  
Crichton nodded slowly, too drained to still be angry.  
  
'And now? Now you have to make a choice again?'  
  
Aeryn stared at him, astonished that he still didn't understand. She didn't want to be with Crais; he wasn't the monster Crichton thought he was, but she felt nothing for him but the comfortable, familiar friendship that derived from shared history. She had hated him once; hated him enough to leave him in the Aurora Chair and listen to him scream as he watched his empty, hollow life played out before his eyes. But that was a long time ago; that had exorcised those demons.  
  
Looking at Crichton's hesitant, nervous face, Chiana's worldly-wise mantra for life flitted through her mind, bringing a sudden smile to her lips: Men? Stupid. You want them to know something, you've got to tell them.  
  
'There's no choice to make, John,' she said, walking forward and standing close to him, looking him intensely. 'Peacekeepers are brought up as one of many: Crais just wants a crew, someone to build a new life with. But my life is here.'  
  
She reached forward a tentative hand and touched his face with the tip of her fingers; caught a strand of his hair between finger and thumb.  
  
'With me?' Crichton said, his lips parting as his eyes searched her face. She gazed at him, a crease appearing between her brows.  
  
'With all of us together?' he said, quietly, almost mockingly, with a minute shake of his head.  
  
She frowned, blinking, the words echoing somewhere in her mind. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.  
  
He stepped backwards, pulling away from her hand. And with a last, sad look at her face, he turned and walked out of the cell.  
  
  
FIN  
  
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OK, so if you don't buy it, flame me with venomous feedback. But first, go back and watch Mind the Baby and the final scene of The Ugly Truth again...and then flame me with venomous feedback. OK?  
  



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